HURRY UP

Just when I think my Northern blood has been totally "Southernized"...I run into some sort of snafu. Yesterday I went to the grocery store. I wanted seven simple items. I figured "I'm in, I'm out". Yeah...not in the South.

I got on the line of a talker. Or as we say in New York...a tawker. I'm not talking about the customer. I'm talking about the cashier. She was learning all about why she shouldn't be hiding "real" eggs for her kids to hunt, but should be buying the plastic ones to hide. REALLY...really? You're gonna hold up a line of four people so you can get a salmonella lesson?

When I first moved South of the Mason Dixon line, about twenty years ago, one of the first places I had to visit was a grocery store to stock our new digs. I was so frustrated with how slow the line moved through the check-outs. The cashier was all friendly, with smiles and comments on customer's purchases. COME ON!! I just want the New York...bada bing, bada boom...I'm outta here. Over the years though I've learned to appreciate the slow Southern style a bit more and I thought I was over my hurry, hurry ways.

Not so yesterday. Ms. Talker not only yakked too much, she screwed up the customer's total (and of course the customer was writing a check) and had to have her rewrite check. She offered to give her change for the difference, but the difference was $26.00 and they were only allowed to give out $25 in cash...yada, yada, yada. Suffice it to say...I was ready to scream by the time I finally got my items rung up and out to my car.

I talked to myself all the way home about it. So any of you drivers who might have seen a crazy lady on New Hope Road around 3:00 yesterday talking to herself...YEAH, that was ME and I had issues I need to deal with!

Today I've been singing the song "slow down, you move too fast, you got to make the morning last.........." I'm about to go out to eat. I wonder if my waiter will be a talker? "slow down, you move too fast.....", keep singing Debe, keep singing.

YUM, SMELL THAT CUP 'O JOE

Anyone who truly loves coffee needs to stay away from the brew I produce. I actually had a dream about my coffee last night. In my dream I was hostessing a party at our house (pretty normal stuff). I walked into my kitchen and two people were standing there, coffee cups filled and getting ready to drink. I grabbed the cups and said, "Oh no, you can't drink that...it's way too weak!"

I like my coffee see-through. I love the taste of the creamer and the two teaspoons of sugar I add, but I just want the water "coffee flavored". I've been teased mercilessly by my coffee connoisseur friends, but I don't really care. It's how I like it. If I go to someone's house and they offer me coffee...I have to pour half or even a quarter of a cup and then add water, microwave, then add my cream and sugar. Most true coffee admirers look on in horror at this process, so I usually just say "no thanks" and simply enjoy the wonderful aroma the coffee produces.

I love tea, but there is nothing like the smell of coffee in the morning to wake me up and get me feeling perky. I don't think there's any law that says the coffee has to be pitch black or has to be consumed without any additional flavorings. Is there? Speaking of flavors...I also love flavored coffees. If it's not flavored, then adding some vanilla or hazelnut creamer makes me a happy camper.

I make two pots of coffee when I'm entertaining. One is a 12-cup pot which I make as dark as possible and the other is a 3-cup...just for wimpy ole coffee drinker me or any of my other friends who might simply enjoy the "idea" of coffee. Not that I've found any friends like that yet...but I'm lookin'. Any takers?

CRASH, BANG, BOOM..........

I'm not a big fan of thunderstorms. Maybe this is one of the reasons it's difficult for me to write Gothic romances. I can't imagine my heroine waiting for her prince charming, standing on the moors with the wind whipping around her, lightning blazing in the sky, thunder rumbling as she gets drenched in cold soaking rain. (see how that little scenario just went downhill) Not a fan! Not a fan at all.

Last night we had a doozie of a storm pass through. My hubby is out of town again, so I didn't even have him to cuddle up to. As I lay there quivering, heart pounding in my chest after the first huge BANG shook the house, I wanted the dog to crawl up on the bed with me. I thought at least I could hold onto him. He had his own problems though. He also hates storms and he was under my bed, trying to dig a hole through the floor to hide in.

His antics did take my mind off the noise outside my window. I was too busy yelling at him to stop digging at the carpeting and banging on the side of the bed in hopes of scaring him into coming out, to pay too much attention to all the racket outside. I finally had to resort to getting out from under the covers, including the one covering my head...lift the bedskirt and try to coax him out. It didn't work. He just stared at me, wide eyed and shivering.

I finally gave up on the dog, crawled back under my covers, grabbed my hubby's pillow, threw the sheets up over my head and wrapped my arms around the pillow. Not exactly the stuff that Desire romance novels are made of, but at least it made me feel a little better. The dog just kept digging till everything finally quieted down.

WORRY WORT

I worry too much. As I get older I worry far more than I did when I was just a pup. I don't know if it's because I've lived life long enough now to know about how things can get totally f*ed up...or if my brain has just become packed with so much crap through the years that I can't stop over processing everything.

I can't remember a day in the last few years that I haven't found something to be concerned about. Of course everything my daughter does terrifies me. My son I barely hear from and maybe that's good cause I'm sure I'd find something disturbing in his world too. I worry about my husband, I worry about my dog, I worry about my daughter's dog, I worry about our finances, I worry about the moles digging holes in our backyard, I worry about not being able to find just the right shoes to go with the beautiful torquoise dress I've recently purchased, I worry the "said dress" was way to expensive. I worry!

When I was in my twenties and even my thirties I didn't worry. I had far less money, a very insecure home life, a husband who never seemed to know where he wanted to work or live and two children to be concerned about...but I didn't worry. I took life in stride. I enjoyed it. I laughed in the face of danger. I was always willing to try something new. Hell, I even picked my son and daughter's pacifier up off floors, licked them off and put them back in their in their mouths. I was fearless, living on the edge!

Worrying started around the time I turned 40. I suddenly comprehended what a dangerous, scary world we live in and I became uptight and all hot and bothered over every little thing. It may have had something to do with heading toward a divorce or it could have been as simple as riding the roller coaster at Carowinds Amusement Park. I'm not sure what triggered it. I just know once the gun was cocked...there was no turning back.

I made a promise to myself this January. I'm going to try something new every month. Step out of my comfort zone and try something I've never done before. I find this terrifying, but I am determined. I mean what's the worst that can happen? Oh, oh now I've got myself worrying again...about trying to overcome my worrying.

GET A BUCKET AND BAIL YOUR OWN BOAT

Do you have a Facebook account? If you do...you know how there will be ads on the right hand side of your page when you open it? Well one of those ads today kinda got me revved up and I don't mean in good way. I'm a wee bit up tight today as it is, but this just got me fuming.

There's a picture of a pair of bare feet. On the pair of bare feet are a pair of makeshift sandals made from two liter soda bottles. The bottles have been flattened, a hole punched in the end where the top would attach and two more holes on either side. Into these holes the wearer has knotted scrap pieces of cloth, forming a sort of "flip style" shoe. Under the picture of this pair of innovative sandals is a caption which reads: New Government Regulation, US Residents under $65,000K option to remove 1/2 of debt ($10,000 in debt to qualify)

So what burned me up about this ad? Where do I begin? First...that picture is of a pair of feet from Haiti. I actually saw it on the news and posted in a magazine, to show how things are so bad there, they are making two liter footwear. In America these sort of sandals would be considered unique, avant-garde and could actually become a popular trend. In Haiti, they are a necessity to many of the population. Using this picture and pretending this is an American is just wrong on so many levels.

The amount...$65,000 a year is ridiculous! If you make $65,000 a year...unless you're the freakin' octomom, with 14 mouths to feed...you should certainly be able to pay your bills. If you make $65,000 a year and you can't pay your bills cause you're so far in debt it's impossible, then you should be ashamed of yourself for putting yourself into that situation and you don't deserve a "bail-out". There are families of 4+ making a lot less than that and still managing to NOT go into debt, so far over their heads, they can't make their payments.

Everyone wants an easy way out these days. Too bad. These are tough, tough times we are living in. Some more difficult than for others, but suck it up people. It is obscene to think anyone with an income of that kind would not be able to pay off $10,000 in debt and they CERTAINLY wouldn't be wearing pop bottles on their feet...unless of course Dolce&Gabana or Prada was selling them.

I'm just saying.................

BACK TO SCHOOL

As some of you know I've been on unemployment for awhile. I received a notice in the mail, about a month ago, from the Employment Security Commission, telling me I could sign up for school if I wanted to. I finally decided today to go check out my options.

Although I have a degree in Communications, it doesn't seem to be helping me much right now and I thought it might be fun to study something else. I went to Wake Tech's North campus to see what courses they had available. I couldn't find the enrollment office, but did find the Continuing Education office. When I went in the girl behind the desk had a big smile on her face.

"How can I help you?" she said.

"I'm interested in finding out what educational programs you have." I said.

"Grab a brochure." she said.

"No, I want the curriculum programs. Where is the enrollment office?" I said.

The smile disappeared. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. "You want the curriculum programs?" she asked.

It was then I had an epiphany. Holy crap, I've gotten old!! When did that happen? I pasted a tense smile on my face and said, "I know I'm old, but I'd like to go back to school and get another degree."

"No, no...you're not old," she said, but her eyes told me I was. "The enrollment office is in the next building."

I scurried off, trying not to notice all the young faces surrounding me in the hallway, and headed into the next building. I found the enrollment desk. There were two twenty-somethings ahead of me and I waited patiently. When they left the girl behind the desk smiled at me and said, "Yes? How can I help you."

"I wondered if you had a brochures of the classes you offer?" I said.

"You mean the Continuing Education classes?" she said.

"No I mean the Curriculum courses. I want to go back to get a degree." I said.

The smile disappeared.

"All the classes are listed on-line. We don't print handbooks anymore." she said.

"Ugh, okay thanks." I mumbled and slinked off realizing I hadn't needed to publicly humiliate myself.

Do I really want to go back to school? I don't know for sure, but I do know I didn't want to feel "old" today and unfortunately I did. How did that 90 year old woman who just graduated college stand it? Maybe I'll give her a call...........

WINKLER WARS

Ahhhh, the joys of marriage. (is that an oxymoron?) My husband I can fight about the stupidest little things. I know I should save my energy for the big wars, but lately I find myself getting pulled into these tiny battles and losing my mind.

Our most recent struggle was over whether or not we (meaning my husband) should change out the toilet seat in our foyer bathroom. The current seat, had a couple of chips in it and I wanted a fresh one installed. Seems like a fairly straight forward, simple thing...doesn't it? No way! My darling husband could see no reason to throw away a perfectly good toilet seat just cause it had a flaw. I on the other hand thought it made the bathroom look worn and tacky and I wanted it GONE.

My husband manages a Kmart store. It's not like he had to take a trip somewhere else to grab a new toilet seat. I asked him to pick one up while he was at work. I asked for three days, til I finally wore him down and he produced my new seat. He took said seat into the bathroom and propped it up against the wall, still in it's packaging.

I tried to ignore it sitting there...screaming at me..."HA here I am, but I will NEVER replace the seat you're currently sitting on". For a week I kept my mouth shut. Then, one day, while sitting gazing at my beautiful new bright white toilet seat I reached down and looked at the store receipt, still taped to the package. It read $7.97. That's right $7.97. For $7.97 my husband is giving me hissy fits about not replacing our old toilet seat.

Let the BATTLE begin. I marched into my husband's man-cave and insisted that he replace the downstairs toilet seat today! I'm not sure why he likes to wait till my eyes are bulging from my head and I'm so angry I can barely force the words past my lips, but he does seem to take some perverse pleasure in seeing me in this state. However, things do tend to get done when the "she devil" appears. Within a few minutes I had my nice new shiny toilet seat waiting for me to try it out.

This is the nicest toilet seat I think I've ever used! It's surface is slick and smooth and it's truly comfortable to sit on. As women we always sit, so comfort is important to us. I love my new toilet seat and as soon as the smoke clears...I'm gonna see if we can install one just like it in our master bathroom for $7.97! DING, Round Two!